


Red

by Alice_In_The_Sky



Category: Tintin - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 20:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1756771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alice_In_The_Sky/pseuds/Alice_In_The_Sky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silence was the Captain’s only companion that night and, well, a half-empty glass and a bottle of whiskey if those also counted as companions...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red

**Author's Note:**

> This was something I did a few years back. I hope it is okay. Tried to edit it as best I can. Hopefully it's alright. To be perfectly honest, I don't remember what prompted this but I wrote it anyway. Thanks for reading.

    Silence was the Captain’s only companion that night and, well, a half-empty glass and a bottle of whiskey if those also counted as companions. It was raining. He never slept well when it rained. He didn’t know why but he kept tossing and turning in his sleep while he dreamt. He dreamt of the sea, of the ships he had sailed on, of his adventures, of home.

     But above all of those images in his dreams, one stood out amongst all of the rest.

     And for all of that, he didn’t know what to do.

     An owl hooted outside, letting out a long, lonesome cry. He sighed heavily. He didn’t know what it was that triggered it, those dreams. Yet he could not avoid it, no matter what he did, even when he drank whisky. And drinking whiskey had made him forget a great many things. His sorrows and his thoughts, frightful events. He knew it was just an escape, his drunkenness. It hadn’t really made him forget things. Whiskey just pushed it to the back of his mind. They still came forward on nights like these.

 _Might be the rain_. He thought to himself. Rain always did remind him of troubled times. So why now?

     He picked up the glass of whiskey, its golden liquid swirled about, reminded him of waves in the sea. And of that old rickety ship where it all began. It was an unexpected first meeting. It came with a tumble and when he looked-

_Ssh… not a sound._

    -There was a boy.

    Golden liquid continued to swirl about in the glass. He stared, transfixed. Remembering…

     _Listen, you must help me. And you must promise to stop drinking…._

    It had been absurd then. To stop drinking. True. He hadn’t stopped drinking yet. But he did promise, even in his drunken stupor he had promised though not directly. He hadn’t stopped. The liquid continued to swirl, and he continued to remember that boy with the same colored hair as the whiskey. That boy that became his best friend. The boy was a constant figure in his dreams, asking for help, drowning in the waves of the sea.

    He closed his eyes tightly, he always woke up in a fright, beads of sweat on his face. Then he would walk around the mansion, disturbed. The desire to go up to the boy’s room, to assure himself that the boy was there, alive and well and _breathing_. He never did though. There were no seas in Marlinspike. There were no waves to drown the boy.

    Shakily, he tried to calm his nerves.

    There was no point in worrying. Other people may laugh if he told them that he fears for the boy. He’d been over-protective of the boy, to make sure he didn’t break. For no matter what other people say (or the boy himself would say) a boy was still a boy. Whatever occupation, whatever great deeds he did, a boy was still a boy. And he had to be protected. He had to protect the boy.

    His whole world now revolved around the boy.

    And it was this protectiveness that troubled him.

    “Up so late, Captain?”

    Captain Haddock didn't need to turn. He knew who spoke. It was the boy. He grunted in reply.

    “Drinking again…” The boy said. He shook his head and sat down on the chair across him.

    Was he disappointed for that unfulfilled promise? His hands began to tremble.

    “Really, Captain—” He began but was cut off for the Captain dropped his glass. 

    It shattered into a thousand little pieces, golden liquid spilling on the marble floor. The boy immediately jumped to his feet in alarm.

    “Captain, are you alright?” He asked. There was concern and he heard it. He just nodded as a reply. The boy smiled at him. “You should be more careful.”

    The boy knelt down and began picking up the pieces of the shattered glass. The Captain knew. The boy had always been there, to pick up the pieces when things went wrong. The glass was, the Captain suddenly realized, himself. The boy was the reason he was all together again. The boy was there to pick up every piece of himself no matter how jagged.

    “Ouch!” The boy exclaimed. A finger pricked and he bled, trying to pick up the last piece.

     _The last piece of the myself._ The Captain thought.

    “Tintin…”

    The boy looked up. The Captain then bent down and took the bleeding finger of the boy. The boy was surprised for the captain had never held his hands this way before.

    “Captain…?”

    “Red…” he paused. “doesn’t suit you.”

    The whiskey continued to flow across the marble floor of Marlinspike hall. The Captain then picked up the last piece of himself, silently vowing to protect the boy who first took up the pieces of himself on the cold floor.

 

**THE END**


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